if being afraid is a crime we hang side by side
by possibilist
Summary: 'Quinn is brave too, and you both know if she wasn't she would've died long ago—she's smart and special and too much for the world some days—but to love her is the bravest thing.' or, five times rachel & frannie have a meal together. headcanon drabble. current universe. fluffy but with mild discussion of possible triggers.


['Quinn is brave too, and you both know if she wasn't she would've died long ago—she's smart and special and too much for the world some days—but to love her is the bravest thing.' or, five times rachel & frannie have a meal together. headcanon drabble. current universe. fluffy but with mild discussion of possible triggers.]

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**if being afraid is a crime we hang side by side (at the swinging party down the line)**

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_today, like every other day, we wake up empty/ and frightened. don't open the door to the study/ and begin reading. take down a musical instrument./ let the beauty we love be what we do./ there are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground._

—rumi, translated from the persian by coleman barks

…

_1_

You get conned into having lunch with Rachel by Quinn. You take the train up Friday morning so you can have lunch with Quinn—it's almost March, and you've not seen her since she came down to Boston the first weekend of term—and she fails to tell you that Rachel will also be there.

She also fails to tell you that she has an important meeting with her advisor at exactly noon, which leaves you and Rachel walking Quinn to her class on old campus and then watching her wave with a smirk as she heads into the building.

Rachel laughs lightly as she walks away. I knew she wanted us to meet formally, she says, but I didn't think she'd scheme quite like this.

You roll your eyes and turn to walk toward Red Lentil. Quinn's mentioned you're vegan, you say.

Rachel nods and you can tell this makes her happy, that you know this about her.

I've seen some of your art, she says.

You suddenly think this is really, really cute—that Quinn planned to let you two have this awkward introduction, that Rachel is trying so hard to impress you, to be kind. You've met before, the two of you, a few times—mostly in hospitals, you realize.

Hey Rachel? you say.

What?

It's really nice to spend time with you outside of Quinn's hospital room.

Rachel's laugh is sad. I agree, she says.

.

_2_

Rachel calls you one day while you're in Boston and says she's headed down with Quinn for some conference at Harvard, and she's wondering if you're free for brunch because as exciting as literary theory is—

You laugh and agree, and Rachel meets you at a little cafe near your brownstone.

You're pregnant and definitely showing, and Rachel is so delighted by this. She asks all kinds of sweet questions, and she tells you a little bit about some of the auditions she's had.

When your food comes, she picks at her toast, though.

Can I—can I ask your advice? she says.

You nod.

Quinn's still—well, you know about her food stuff?

I do, you say.

She's been having a hard time lately, Rachel says. I don't really know why and I don't really understand it completely, so I want to do the right things and say the right things but I don't really know what those are and—

Rachel, you say, and it's one of your favorite things about her, you've learned: the way she starts to talk fast when she's worried about Quinn. Take a deep breath, you tell her.

She laughs tearily and does just that.

I didn't have quite as rough a time as Quinn does with food, you say, but when I was in undergrad things weren't good.

Rachel nods. I'm sorry, she says.

You take her hand. Thank you, you say. And it's different for everyone, but I think one of the best things that Robert did was make me cook with him. He made it fun and he made food not about _food_. If that makes sense.

Rachel smiles. It does. I can do that.

And in terms of dysmorphia, you say, that doesn't ever go away. I have days where I can't stand my body and Quinn will always have those days too.

Rachel seems resigned to this, like she had already grasped this. Can I—can I help? she asks.

Be gentle, you say. On those days, if all she can do is hold your hand, know that she's trying. Get her to eat but be okay with her safe foods.

Okay, Rachel says. That makes sense.

But Rachel, you say—and it's strange to tell this to someone about your baby sister but Rachel deserves to hear it—if she wants you to touch her, do it. Just—listen, and be as soft as you can.

Rachel smiles, and it's gentle, and she says, I can do that.

.

_3_

Whenever you go down to New York for gallery or museum tasks, you have some sort of meal with just Rachel, because you feel the intense need to continuously check up on her because you know your little sister is not an easy human being to deal with.

Today it's winter and it's cold, and Quinn is at home with something Rachel thinks is probably going to turn into pneumonia.

She seems frustrated when you sit down at the table at Ayurveda.

She refuses to take care of herself, she huffs, taking off her gloves with more force than necessary.

You don't say anything, just wait for Rachel to continue.

Like, she knows she's getting sick. She's coughing and I know she's in pain because she can't hide it _that _well, and what does she try to do this morning? Go for a fucking run.

You nod.

_And _then she tries to tell me it's not bad, Rachel says pausing to order quickly but politely—which makes you smile—before she flings her napkin across the table and continues. Like I've not watch this happen for four fucking years and like it doesn't scare the shit out of me because you know what? We watched her not be able to breathe.

She's a little shit, you agree.

Rachel clenches her jaw. Why does she do this?

You take a bite of naan. Well, I think part of it has to do with the fact that Quinn's always been a little bit of a tough moron. She never wanted to ask for help or admit she was sick or hurt, even when we were small.

Rachel rips her naan with more force than necessary.

And I think a lot of it has to do with Quinn not wanting to be a burden to you. Because she—Quinn just—we talk a lot and she still doesn't think she deserves all of the good things you are to her, Rachel. And I think she's probably scared that asking for more help, especially when she's sick, would make you want to leave.

That doesn't make any sense, Rachel says, angrily stabbing at her masala.

You shrug. It's Quinn.

Rachel takes a deep breath and then something clicks, because she seems to deflate a little, the anger leaving her. I hate when she gets sick, self-effacing little fuck.

You laugh heartily. That's actually her real name.

Rachel laughs too.

You talk for the rest of the time about Rachel's new workshop, about your upcoming installation.

Rachel gets saag paneer and garlic naan and mango custard to go—Quinn's favorites—and you walk with her to their apartment, and when you get inside Quinn has fallen asleep on the couch with _Moulin Rouge _playing on the television. Rachel smiles gently and you offer to put away the food while Rachel goes and gently kisses Quinn on the forehead, brushes aside her bangs.

You tell them goodbye after you know Quinn has agreed—albeit very, very sleepily—to take her antibiotics and rest for a few days, and you hug Rachel tightly and then kiss Quinn's cheek.

Be good to her, you say.

Quinn smiles blearily. I promise, she says.

.

_4_

You and Robert like to go on double dates with them because it's the least creepy way of watching them together—and you and Robert really like to do this because you think you're cute and you sort of love the way they're growing up—and tonight you get a babysitter for Lucy and Quinn and Rachel are visiting from New York, so you end up going out and getting a few drinks.

You hadn't really planned on getting drunk, but you don't have to work tomorrow; Robert has a deposition in the morning, but Rachel and Quinn are off. You take them to a jazz bar.

After a while you realize you've had more wine than you thought, and Quinn is laughing at something you didn't even hear, and Robert is smiling fondly. You and Quinn are both lightweights, and Quinn has especially low tolerance because of her medications, so when one of her favorite songs comes on and Robert offers to dance with her, Rachel laughs and shoos them onto the floor.

Rachel looks at you and you can tell she's serious. I can't ask you think unless we're drunk, she says.

Okay.

The things that happened to Quinn when she was little, she says, slowly and painfully—They happened to you too, right?

Your chest feels tight. A lot of them, yeah, you say.

Rachel's face falls.

I tried to make it better for her, you say, and it feels frantic every time you think about it. I'm sorry I couldn't and I know—

Rachel takes your hands in her own. Frannie, she says. I just—Quinn and I are working through things and some days are really hard and I know you love her more than maybe anyone else on the planet, and I just—I'm so sorry that happened to you.

She starts to cry, and you start to cry, and you end up hugging fiercely, although by the end of the song you're laughing together about Robert trying to lead drunk Quinn around the dance floor.

Does it ever bother you how graceful she is even when she's drunk? you ask.

Rachel laughs. All the time, she says.

.

_5_

Rachel sits down across from you at the small diner close to she and Quinn's apartment.

She's bright-eyed and you think that both she and Quinn have gotten older beautifully.

Rachel's unusually quiet when she orders, and then she fidgets with her fingers. You can't really imagine them breaking up at this point, so when Rachel takes a deep breath and then says, Normally I know you're supposed to ask the parents for permission on this kind of stuff and I'll ask Judy too, but—

You grin.

Rachel seems to relax a little bit. I'd really love to marry your little sister.

I'd really love for you to marry my little sister, you say.

Rachel laughs and you stand and give each other hugs.

You know I've thought of you as my little sister for years now too, right? you ask.

Rachel nods. Thank you for everything you've done for me, she says.

You think she's probably going to start crying so you sit down again.

She puts her chin in the palm of your hand, looks at you. Sometimes you remind me so much of her, she says. I think Quinn learned how to be very brave from you.

You shrug, although it's one of the most touching things anyone's ever told you. For a long time you think maybe you and Rachel had been more scared than anyone, because to love Quinn meant to be terrified of all of the explosive destruction she was capable of. Quinn is brave too, and you both know if she wasn't she would've died long ago—she's smart and special and too much for the world some days—but to love her is the bravest thing.

But you both do love Quinn, immensely, presently, gently.

You say, Thank you, Rachel.

She shakes her head. Thank you.


End file.
